


Hell Hath No Fury

by ticktockclockwork



Series: NHL Bitty [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Canon-Typical Homophobia, Eric 'Take No Shit' Bittle, Kent & Bitty are the Princes of Petiness, M/M, NHL Bitty, Past-Bullying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 12:42:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9608039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ticktockclockwork/pseuds/ticktockclockwork
Summary: Bitty has a reputation coming out of Samwell as an easy target. Hit him and he goes down. But once he's drafted to the Las Vegas Aces and comes face to face with his new captain, Kent Parson, Bitty has to learn how to make it in the NHL.It's a good thing he knows how to fight dirty.





	

It was a funny thing, the reputation that followed Bitty. After his concussion against Yale, and his subsequent difficulties with checking that came back because of it, it wasn't surprising that word got around about his obvious weak spot. #15 couldn't take a check. If you can catch him, spook him. It'll take him out immediately.

And they weren't wrong, not really. Sure, as time went on he got better, but that trauma wasn't going to disappear and some days he could skate through it and some days he couldn't. He'd done well at Samwell and been drafted quickly in the NHL but still, there were some days that no matter how supportive his team was, he still crumpled. He was getting better at only going to one knee instead of into the fetal position but still.

It sucked. Like a lot.

“We gotta do something about this, kid.”

Kent Parson hadn't recognized him when he'd first gotten drafted to the Aces but once he had - because, honestly, Kent hadn't even been drunk at the Epikegster so it was only a matter of time before things clicked - Bitty hadn't been able to shake the nickname.

Kid.

Fuck off.

Bitty huffed as he pulled himself from his knee. “You think I ain't tried to get through this? You shoulda seen me freshman year, this is honestly a helluva improvement.”

“Well it _ain't_ good enough.” And then his captain had skated off before Bitty could pop him in the mouth and wasn't that just a shame.

Now, Bitty's first lesson in the NHL wasn't how to take a hit. He knew how to take a hit, he just had trouble getting back up from it. And no, his first lesson wasn't learning how to do that either. It wasn't how to throw a punch, or how to pull for a penalty or how to argue with the refs - because let's be real, Bitty could passive aggressively convince anybody to do anything with his sweet southern charm.

No, the first lesson Bitty ever learned in the NHL was this: spite was a powerful motivator.

And boy did Bitty hate Kent Parson.

What began after that was a calculated series of events whose sole purpose was to make the team love Bitty, unequivocally. The fact that Bitty was gay didn't sit well with some of his teammates but Bitty had plenty of practice in the Art of Bro and could hide his more flamboyant qualities when he needed to. They didn't mind the pies, that was for sure, and when the nutritionists started making noise, he won them over too with his high protein, high fiber energy bars that became a staple at practices.

If it wasn't his food, it was his natural charisma, his inherent ability to make even the iciest bigot at least forget they hated his kind for awhile. He won the team over, then the staff, then the coaches, and when he had himself entirely in their favor, he got to work on part B of Operation: Don't Fuck With Bitty.

He continued working on taking checks, and showed slow but positive improvement there. Mostly he worked with the defensemen but every so often Kent volunteered and then it was just a few hours of getting slammed into the boards and called multiple variations of “kid”.

His momma had always told him patience was a virtue and oh was he putting that to the test now.

When he wasn't working on checks or practicing with the team, he was working pointedly on his speed. It was his one trait that everyone could agree was his best asset. He was small and fast and so while he struggled during checking clinics, he excelled at his times. He'd already broken Kent's record not long after being drafted and he channeled any competition into just getting better.

Races became a regular thing and after Kent had gotten over his pride, they even became enjoyable. Bitty was faster than Kent by a large enough margin that he could no longer call it a fluke and so they started making plays out of it, working with Bitty's natural flexibility to have him chasing pucks and sending them backwards before anyone could really tell what was happening.

Instead of focusing on teaching him how to take a check, they quickly started working on how to avoid them and before long Bitty was able to go an entire practice without going to his knees once.

He'd become an asset and Kent was now in his favor. Time to begin the third and final part of his plan.

The thing about growing up small and gay in the South was that you learned quickly that you weren't going to avoid bullying. It didn't excuse it but realities were what they were and after the closet incident, Bitty swallowed the bitter truth of what he would have to deal with. His parents had moved after, but bigots were everywhere and they always had the bad habit of teaching their children their awful beliefs.

So late into July, after they had moved but before Bitty had started at his new school, his momma had sat him down. She'd brought him into the kitchen where Coach was making Kraft mac and cheese and she'd sat him down and she'd said to him “Dicky, there ain't a single thing wrong with fightin’ dirty.”

And then Coach had turned to him and told him “Son, I'm going to teach you how to knock a kid's teeth out without throwin’ a punch.”

And they did. They didn't talk to him about the slurs, and whether they were true or not. They didn't try to work through why he was being bullied and how to make him less ‘different’ so he wouldn't get bullied. They didn't change him to fit the mold the bullies were demanding. Instead they assured him that whatever was happening to him was not his fault, and they showed him how to fight back if he needed to.

The first time Nancy Groves came over to yell about the fact that Bitty had knocked her son's front teeth out with his pink power rangers lunch box his parents had simply told her that he didn't really need them if the only words he was going to be using were faggot.

Chad Groves was too scared of Coach to try and deny it and Nancy left with her son's elbow gripped painfully in her hand.

The Bittles went out for pizza that night and let Bitty listen to whatever music he wanted on the way back. It was all Britney and they had no shame.

Over the years, Bitty had gotten better at fighting without being obvious. When he'd given up figure skating and picked up hockey, most people left him alone. They knew what he could do with a lunch box and didn't need to find out what he could do with a hockey stick. Eventually, they all grew up and Bitty moved away to attend Samwell and the tendencies to fight became more subdued in the face of a supportive team and comfortable friends. But that knowledge never really left him and now it was time to bring it back.

It happened during one of their practices. The season hadn't officially started but with their first game only a month away they were pushing to get as much ice time as possible, especially for the new recruits. Things looked favorable, the team dynamic was strong, it was only a matter of working out some of their kinks.

Bitty and Kent were doing drills to fine tune fighting over the puck. Kent would shoulder Bitty into the boards then shove him away to get a head start at the knocked away puck. Bitty's size worked against him here but he was faster so Kent needed the head start. As they took off, first Kent then a split second later Bitty, Bitty worked not to catch up to the puck but instead to catch up to Kent.

As they were surging forward towards the puck Bitty let his stick just… drift. It was just an inch out of his control, just enough to catch the front of Kent's skate. Bitty paid him no mind as he shot ahead and slapped the puck into the net only looking up when Kent had collapsed to the ice after being unable to regain his balance.

Perfectly practiced shock and surprise colored Bitty's face as he cut to a stop and drifted back over to his captain. He looked down to Kent who was pushing himself to his knees, then crouched and said in his sweetest, honey dipped voice “You okay there kid?”

Kent's head shot up but before he could get an accusatory word in, their teammates had come over to help them up and chirp their captain. Bitty turned his back on the others and went about collecting the pucks.

He knew Kent was going to confront him but he hadn't expected it in the locker rooms that night. He'd stayed late to work on his aim in the net. Most of the team had gone home and by the time he was finished showering, he thought he had the room to himself.

“Bittle.”

Bitty felt his body tense immediately at the familiar feeling of danger that swept over him. He had his back to the room as he packed his equipment and he felt Kent step into his space. “Parson.” Bitty replied, short and clipped. He yanked the zip of his bag then turned to face the other.

“Tripping puts you in the penalty box. It's a shit dirty move to do to your line and can mean the difference in a close game.”

Bitty held Kent's eyes and said, carefully and precisely, “You're right. It is.” Then a pause. “If you're caught.”

Kent's mouth quirked. 

Bitty's did too, after a moment.

And when Kent stepped forward to grab the back of his head and pull him in for a rough kiss, Bitty showed him just how dirty he could be.

It was a funny thing, the reputation that followed Bitty. Everyone knew to watch their feet around him, knew to be careful when they felt like they were catching up to him. He does his fair share of time in the sin bin, and sure, sometimes they lose games because of it. But usually the sting of defeat wasn't so bad when your captain slash boyfriend fist bumped you through the glass as he passed by after you took down a d-man twice your size. 

Bitty was no longer a target on the ice. His team didn't much appreciate it when he was given a dirty check but they usually didn't have to worry about retaliation. Big men fall hard and when Bitty swept the rink with his lightning speed and pretty smile, no one stood a chance.

**Author's Note:**

> So NHL Bitty is my endgame for everything. And petty Bitty who doesn't go down without a fight???? Yes.
> 
> Watching the Canadians play this weekend I got the pleasure of seeing Andrew Shaw play dirty again and I couldn't help but think of scrappy Bitty putting the word out there that he isn't someone to be messed with. 
> 
> So here you go, you fine mother fluffers. NHL Bittyparse where Bitty fights dirty!
> 
> Come chatter at me on Tumblr @ ticktockclockwork


End file.
